This is the first Christmas with our boys when they have not either believed in Santa or at least been willing to humour us. Last year they were still buying in to the whole "presents come from Santa" routine, although they have always known that we parents also have a big role in the production too. We have a special relationship with the fairies, you see. Did you not know about the fairies? Let me enlighten you. Mummies and Daddies (and aunties and uncles and grannies etc etc) choose your presents because they know what you want and what you like. Then the fairies come and take those presents away to the North Pole where Santa lives (or Lapland, depending on your own family's version of the mythology). And, providing you are good (for we cannot give up the excellent blackmail material that Christmas provides), Santa brings the presents from your family on Christmas day.
We have my husband's mother to thank for that arrangement. She had a similar arrangement with the fairies herself. It is excellent because it also gets round the problem of small boy changing HIS ENTIRE CHRISTMAS LIST ON DECEMBER 23RD!!! ("Oh, I'm sorry, I think the fairies have already taken the presents you said you wanted away to Santa! But you would still like those, wouldn't you?")
Anyway, this year the boys haven't mentioned Santa, neither have we and they know who is getting them what as they made up a VERY detailed list which they then distributed to anyone within reach. Another milestone passes. They are still going to get stockings though - I'll just worry less about being seen creeping into their room at 2am to fill them. Which I always am, because the boys usually awake at 3am to eat the sweets they find in there.
Which reminds me of an excellent family anecdote (from husband's family, but he won't mind). My mother-in-law has 2 cousins, brothers, one of whom is now a judge so I come across him in a professional capacity now and again. (It is irrelevant that he is a judge, but I do remember this story every time I see him. I wonder if it scarred him for life). One Christmas Eve when they were quite young, they were pretending to be asleep when their father crept into the room dressed as Santa to fill the stockings. One brother obviously gave it away that he was awake so Santa leaned over and hissed "LIE STILL!!!" I like to imagine him being found, rigid and petrified in the morning. That's one scary Santa.